


Another Woman's Treasure

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Doubt, F/M, Fluff, New Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Set in season 7, Mulder has a few doubts in his new relationship with Scully.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 10
Kudos: 145





	Another Woman's Treasure

“So, I’ll see you Monday,” Scully says, folding her blazer over her arm and adjusting her grip on her satchel.

“Yep,” Mulder answers, nodding slightly as he leans back in his chair.

They stare at each other. He taps the eraser-end of a pencil against his jaw. Going home for a weekend, alone, is different now. Though they spent seven years going their separate ways, three weeks of spending nights together has made saying goodbye feel awkward. 

He wants to kiss her, even just on the cheek or the corner of her mouth, something friendly and casual, but he knows he won’t be able to stop at that, and so he keeps himself firmly planted in his seat. He can’t help it if his gaze drops to her lips. He also can’t help but notice that she does the same.

“Okay then,” Scully says.

“Have a nice weekend.”

She gives him one last glance over her shoulder as she walks out the door and he sighs quietly when he hears the elevator ding. Mechanically, he prepares to leave for the weekend. Though he told her he’d be staying to finish a report, he’d merely been avoiding walking out with her, knowing how weak-willed he was and he’d look for an excuse to keep them together for the night. 

They’d been over this though and they agreed. They didn’t want to rush things. It couldn’t possibly be wise to go from friends and partners to all but cohabitating overnight. They needed to just slow down, take the weekend, find a new normal.

Without giving it much thought, Mulder ends up at his favorite bar a few blocks from the Hoover building. It’s never crowded there, it’s dark, it’s quiet, and the barmaid always looks put-out when she seems him coming. It’s perfect.

“What’ll it be this time, Spooky?” the barmaid says as he straddles a barstool.

“Got any Shiner Bock?”

“Not on tap, just the bottle.”

“That’s fine.” He takes off his suit jacket when she goes to get his beer and drapes it over the empty barstool beside him. While he waits, he rolls up his shirtsleeves, loosens his tie, and unbuttons his collar.

“Global conspiracies got you down today?” she asks, dropping a coaster onto the counter and placing an open beer in front of him.

“Not today.”

“Something’s troubling you though.”

“You really wanna know?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

He chuckles and takes a sip of his beer. The only other patrons at the bar are a couple at the other end, engrossed in conversation and sipping wine.

“There’s this woman,” he says.

“Ah.”

“She’s…”

“Married? Seeing someone else? A lesbian?”

“No, nothing like that. She’s my partner. We’ve been together for seven years, actually.”

“You’ve never mentioned a partner before.”

“I haven’t?”

“Usually you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself.”

Mulder narrows his eyes a little at the barmaid and takes another sip of his beer. He can’t argue with her about that one, but he’s surprised Scully’s never come up before.

“So, what’s the problem?” she asks. “You ask her out, she turn you down?”

“Why do you assume it has something to do with relationship stuff?”

“Well, you didn’t say you had an issue with your co-worker, you said ‘there’s this woman,’ which implies ‘relationship stuff.’”

“You’re good.”

“I’ve been doing this a long time.”

Mulder nods, takes a long pull of his beer, and starts talking. Because his current state isn’t so easy to explain, seven years of backstory spills out of him, the ups and downs of his partnership with Scully, the mess he was when she was abducted, went through cancer, battled against the infertility, amongst other things. The barmaid, whom he realizes at a certain point that he’s never known her name, listens passively, stopping him occasionally to take orders or clear glasses, but she always comes back and lets him prattle on until he’s finally able to move out of the past into the present.

“...and I don’t really think things are moving too fast,” he says. “I went along with it because...because I can’t go rocking the boat so soon, you know? I mean, we disagree about enough, but this can’t be one of those things.”

“Sounds like the global conspiracies are easier to deal with,” she answers.

He smiles and scratches at the label on his beer bottle. She wipes a glass with a hand towel and then places it upside down on a shelf behind the bar. Throwing the towel over her shoulder, she runs a hand through her short, blonde hair and then leans closer to Mulder.

“You’ve been nursing this same beer for…” She glances at her watch. “Just over an hour.”

“You can charge me by the hour if you want. By the half-hour, even.”

“How about the quarter hour?” she counters, raising her brow at him. “What I’m saying is, you’ve been nursing this same beer for an hour, rambling on and on about how great this woman is, how perfect, how there never was nor ever will be another so magnificent as she-”

“Well, I never said perfect.”

“Do you interrupt her too?”

“All the time.”

“And yet, she puts up with you.”

“But, for how long?”

“Tell me something, Spooky, if you think so highly of her and her intelligence and her intuition, what makes you think she’d be with someone that doesn’t deserve her?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Is it?”

Mulder sighs. A corner of the label on his beer peels off under his thumbnail and he rolls the tiny shred of it between his fingers. “I don’t know,” he says.

“Have you asked her?”

“Now why would I go and do that?” He snorts lightly and shakes his head. “You could fill a room with the things we don’t talk about.”

“Hm.” The barmaid shrugs and picks up another glass to wipe dry.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugs with one shoulder and circles the rim of the glass with her towel. Mulder frowns and finally finishes the beer he’s been brooding over since he first sat down at the bar. He slams the bottle down with more force than he intends to and slides it over in the direction of the barmaid.

“Another?” she asks.

“She isn’t perfect. You know, she has her faults, too. But, she’s brilliant and capable and beautiful and...and…”

“A whole host of other adjectives?”

“Yes. All of them.”

“Do you trust her?”

Mulder gapes at the woman, his mouth flopping open and shut as he fumbles for an answer. “Implicitly,” he finally says.

“So trust her.”

A tendril of fear swirls up from Mulder’s gut and steals his breath. He pulls at his already loosened collar. He does trust her. He trusts her more than he even trusts himself, there is doubt there. So, why then, is it so hard for him to believe that Scully wants this? Wants him.

“It’s not her, it’s me,” he says, weakly. The barmaid stares at him like that’s been obvious the entire time. He sighs and taps the counter with his index finger. “Another,” he says. She disappears for a few moments and returns with another bottle, popping the top off before she places it in front of him.

She leaves him alone with his thoughts, either because she’s grown tired of of his brooding or because she needs to help someone else. He’s not sure. He watches the condensation form on the neck of his bottle and then draws a tiny heart in it.

It’s not that Mulder considers himself a fatalist, but he’s known for some time, the same way he’s sure of the existence of extraterrestrial life, that the demise of any relationship he enters is a foregone conclusion. He doesn’t want that for him and Scully. It’s one of the reasons it took him seven years to kiss her. He’s been terrified, even before he finally made his move, that the beginning of something more would also spell the end of everything.

And now, he’s back in that rut of pessimism. The seed of doubt has been planted and taken root, and unless he can cut it off immediately, it won’t be long until it blossoms into something ugly and poisonous. 

“Dammit,” he mutters. His suit jacket is draped over the empty barstool next to him and he pulls up the lapel to fish inside the pocket and pull out his cell phone. He speed dials number one and props his head on his fist, elbow on the counter, as it rings.

“Scully,” she answers.

“It’s me,” he says.

“I know.”

“Where are you?”

“Where am I? At home. You know that. Where are you?”

“Casey’s.”

“The bar?”

“Yep.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Do you think you could come down here and meet me?”

“I thought we were taking the weekend to-”

“I know,” he interrupts. “I know, I know, I know. I just…”

He can practically hear her thinking over the phone. The silence makes his stomach burn. He scrunches his face and closes his eyes, feeling stupid and embarassed.

“Nevermind,” he mumbles. “You’re right. I wanted to tell you something and…”

“You can’t tell me over the phone?”

“Not really.”

“It’ll take me half an hour or so. I’m not dressed.”

“Oh?”

“You know what I mean.”

“You’ll come?” 

“I’ll come.” She hangs up. He slips his phone back into his pocket and swallows hard, suddenly feeling queasy.

For the next twenty minutes, every time he hears the door open, feels a rush of cool air against the back of his neck his heart speeds up and then his shoulders slump when it’s not her. He’s only half-way through his second beer when she finally walks in and he bites his bottom lip to hold his smile back when he sees her. She’s changed into a pair of light-colored jeans, a white t-shirt, and a navy blazer. She’s got flats on instead of heels and her face is make-up free, freckles on full display and cheeks pink from the spring air.

“Hey,” she says, coming up next to him and resting her hand lightly between his shoulder blades.

“Hey,” he responds, glancing at her only out of the corner of his eye. “You want something?”

“Not really.”

He swivels on the barstool and shifts his knees so that he can bring her closer, between his legs, and then he brings his arms around her waist and locks his fingers together at the small of her back. She braces her hands on his thighs and tips her head in question.

“What do you want to tell me?” she asks.

“Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“You brought me all this way and now we’re leaving?”

“Just outside.” 

He waits a few moments and then lets her go. She takes a step back to allow him to stand and while he takes a last sip of beer, she curls a finger into the belt loop at his hip. Something flutters inside of him and he bites his bottom lip again. As he takes his wallet out of his pocket, he catches the eye of the barmaid who raises her brows at him and subtly makes an ‘okay’ hand gesture at him from the other end of the bar. He throws two twenties onto the counter and then picks up his jacket and folds it over his arm. When he offers his hand to Scully, she takes it, and as their fingers slide together, she moves in closer and wraps her free hand around the inside of his arm, just above his elbow. 

There’s a park just around the corner that he intends to take her to. He walks slowly and she keeps pace beside him. If she’s impatient, she isn’t letting it show. It’s gotten foggy out and a little chilly, but it feels good and helps him to keep calm. The park is deserted and quiet. He stops under a streetlamp and turns her under the dim glow so he can see her face.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” he says. “And I’m afraid that I’m going to just by being myself.”

“Mulder…”

“No, listen. I will find a way to screw this up because when I’m this happy, I’m always looking for the other shoe to drop. It’s what I do. I...I sabotage every good thing in my life to try to get to the inevitable that much quicker.”

“And so, what? You want to end things now just because you-”

“No! No, I don’t want to end things at all, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” He grabs her face with both hands and has to step even closer to her so his jacket doesn’t slip off his arm. 

“This is it for me. You’re it. I don’t want you to let me make the same mistakes I’ve made in the past.”

“What mistakes?”

“I...I’m needy and obsessive and single-minded and...and I can be too intense sometimes, and…”

“Mulder.” She reaches up to hold his wrists, rubbing her thumbs back and forth across his palms. “That’s just who you are. I know you.”

“But…”

“Do you think I’ve never considered what being with you might be like? WIth your drive and your passion and sometimes narrow focus?”

“You have?”

“I’m sure you thought about my shortcomings as well.”

“What shortcomings?”

She raises her brows up at him and he chuckles and then nods slightly. Her flaws never really felt like flaws to him though, just things that made her Scully. He’s loved her because of them and he’s loved her in spite of them for years.

“I love you,” he says. 

Her eyes grow wide and she opens her mouth, but hesitates. He shakes his head at her and rubs the apples of her cheeks.

“I just needed to say it,” he says. “And...I do need to hear it from you someday, but...not until you want to say it.”

“I do want to. It’s just not an easy thing for me to…”

“I know.”

She squeezes his wrists and presses her lips together into a thin line. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and blinks up at him like she’s exasperated in some way.

“Mulder, if...if you want me to hold you accountable for what you think might hurt us, I need you to do the same with me.”

“So, if you’re upset about something and I ask if you’re okay, and you say you’re fine, I should call you out on it?”

She nods and swallows.

“And if I ask you, straight out, how do you feel about me, and you say nothing, I shouldn’t let you off the hook so easily?”

“No.”

“How do you feel about me, Scully? How do you feel about us?”

“I…”

“Tell me,” he whispers. “Just say it.”

“I thought...I thought I’d been in love before, but now I know it...I’ve never felt the way I feel about you with anyone else.”

“Me either.”

“Which makes it all the more terrifying because…”

“You don’t want to lose this.”

She shakes her head. He nods. His attention is drawn to her mouth where her tongue darts out to nervously swipe at the curve of her upper lip. He wants to kiss her, badly, but so far their relationship has progressed within the privacy of their respective homes. She looks up at him though and he knows by the steady calmness of her gaze that it doesn’t matter to her right now that they’re under the spotlight of a streetlight. They could be at home or this park or the bullpen of the Hoover Building, she wants to be kissed as much as he wants to kiss her.

“Why are you so short?” he whispers at her.

“Why are you so tall?” she whispers back.

He bends towards her and she lifts up onto her toes. He can feel her grinning against his mouth and for a few moments, they don’t so much kiss as they just meld their matching smiles together. And suddenly, the good humor dissolves into a hungry ache and pulls a whimper from her and a groan from him. She reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around her back to pull her tight against him. He thinks about his jacket, briefly, held up by the press of their bodies, when his cell phone digs into his hip.

Scully pulls away first, breathless and flush. Her tiptoes are barely scraping the sidewalk before Mulder loosens his hold and lets her slide back down to her feet. She catches his jacket before it slips to the ground and then they just stand together quietly, staring at each other.

“I don’t think we’re moving too fast,” he finally says.

“I...don’t really think that either.”

“Come home with me.”

“When I left work today I was hoping you’d ask. I was surprised you didn’t.”

“You have no idea the sheer amount of willpower it took not to.”

“Are you okay to drive?”

“I had a beer and a half at the bar.”

“Still.”

“My car’s still in the parking garage though.”

“So, I’ll drive.”

“We’d have to drive in together on Monday morning, then.”

She shrugs. He slips his jacket on.

“People might talk,” he says.

“More than they already do?”

“Are you okay with that?”

“If I wasn’t…”

She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to.

The End


End file.
